


Shot Through The Heart

by Melda_Burke



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood and Gore, Chastity Belts, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), F/M, FU!Papyrus gives no fucks, FU!Sans just as badass as the acronym implies, Fangs by any other name will still fuck as sweetly, Gun Violence, I can't live without my cactus bois so you know there's tsunderes out the wazoo, Injury, Lustfell has mutated into something I call Fallenunder, My A/B/K-Multi Designation System is in use here as well, Please don't repost to another site without my permission, Zombies, mentions of cannibalism, the virus is an STI, what do I do with all these feels guys?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19377103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melda_Burke/pseuds/Melda_Burke
Summary: Madness... crime... lust... and that was all *long* before the Fallen Virus wreaked havoc; now things are so much worse. You were able to miraculously survive, but a storm moved through last night and the cacophony of thunder has drawn a herd your way. This is it, this is the end, and so you ready yourself to make a final stand... wait... since when did fallen ride motorcycles?~A mutated STI has swept across the country, killing and then reanimating its victims. Amidst all the violence and despair, two skeleton monsters have made themselves a haven while searching desperately for a cure. Cock your gun, stay quiet, and remember everyone... *don't get bit.*~





	1. No One is to Blame

The road to hell is paved with good intentions… or so they say. _J. Edwards_ said it was paved with the skulls of unbaptized babies, but what did he know? In any case, the road that led to this particular version of hell on earth was paved with saintly hopes and dreams. This made the true devil in the world, as its people have sadly come to realize, mortal hubris.

In the beginning, the drug Biolus was intended to be a panacea for the sexual infections running rampant in poorer countries, amongst human trafficking survivors, and assisted living communities. Instead of curing grandpa of his ring of fire, however, the new antibiotic busted up all those microscopic nasties only to become the driving force in kick-starting a lurking mutation. That mutation started a deadly ball rolling which made grandpa much more bitey than he used to be, but no worries! He had dentures since the 90’s, so the least of your concerns should involve being gummed to death by the reanimated corpse of an octogenarian swinger.

Unfortunately, most of the fallen weren’t infected in retirement homes, so _they_ still had enough teeth to make living for everyone a lot harder. You, though, managed to survive through luck, protected by the armor of introversion, lack of a social life, and the (formerly embarrassing) retention of virginity. A few months ago, you were considered a loser, but these days you were a survivor. 

You took shelter, during the worst of the rioting and attacks, in the basement of the local library. It turned out to be a life-saving decision; not only were you surrounded by information that had saved your ass when shit hit the fan, but the building was one of those solid concrete affairs built to withstand the tremors that often wracked the _Montañas Del Amante_ area of Ebott County. In addition, about a year or so before this crap had gone down, a bunch of hooligans had put rocks through several of the first story windows, and so the owner had shatter-proof glass installed with bars over the outside. Never before had you been so thankful for underage delinquency, but these were strange times indeed.

The single problem was food and water. For the entire first two weeks after electricity became a fond memory for most, the library’s back-up generators gave you access to water. Your employer, a seemingly fearless, soft-spoken, ex-military man, made sure the two of you had enough food by daring repeated supply runs. For a time, all was well, but one day he simply didn’t return.

You waited up for hours upon hours, until exhaustion forced you to shut down. Days passed, and still you hoped, then weeks, and finally a month after his disappearance, you were forced to accept his loss. By then, the already small rations he’d been hoping to replenish were polished off to the last crumbs. It was at that point, you realized you’d have to venture out if you didn’t wish to starve. At that point, too, the generators had cut themselves off and you were left hungry, thirsty, and in the dark both literally and figuratively.

Back then, you’d fumbled blindly and it was a wonder you didn’t get yourself killed on those first few attempts.These days, however, you were more accustomed to winding your way through the subtle back alleys and avoiding the dead and infected -or, worse still, the living. 

Occasionally, people passed through what remained of your town. Often, the small number of lingering fallen would scare them off, but sometimes not. From your observations, others were growing bolder, more comfortable, around the dead. They’d plod through town confidently, waving guns about and eagerly putting down the rotters as if it were nothing. Didn’t they realize that loud noises drew the dead like flies to dung? Sure, it was fine with a few, but your boss had taught you the dangers of putting all your trust in a firearm; a gun could jam, draw the attention of a herd, or damage the ears. A gun was a last resort in close quarters.

Most of the time, before you worked up the courage to make contact with these individuals in an attempt to acquire safety in numbers, they’d either move on… or they’d mess up. _Badly_. More than once, you’d done your best to try to save them after they’d made their arrogant mistakes, but they were nearly always doomed. Once, you managed to save a woman from one such migrant group.

You’d been so utterly relieved to finally have someone, you made the nearly fatal mistake of forgetting to check her for bites. She was kind, the type of person who probably would’ve been a normal mom-type lady, and gifted you with a chocolate bar for saving her life. In less than three days, though, the symptoms reared their ugly heads. Grace, by the gods you could still remember her _name_ , began to get… touchy. Her initial gratitude turned to lustful glances in your direction and suggestive hinting. 

Then, she grew more insistent, and would be insufferable that her advances were denied. By the third day, when the weeping sores appeared, you knew for sure. You lured her close with the promise of having given in to temptation, only to put a screwdriver straight through her temple. It wasn’t a clean kill to say the least. It took so long, so many days of convincing yourself that, from the moment she was bitten, Grace was no longer herself. She was the first of the infected you’d had to put down, but you still weren’t sure you were over it yet, and that had been nearly four months ago to the day.

Now, though, you had a feeling you were soon to follow Grace into the grave. Your life didn’t flash in front of your eyes; you felt only deep, indescribable fear; the kind of fear the flashes in the eyes of a deer breathing its last. This was the knowledge of life’s end, the simultaneous acceptance and denial of death. No matter how admirable how you clung to it, hope was fading from your heart.

It had been reckless to go out after last night’s storm. You _knew_ it was likely to rile up the dead and send them this way, but your food supply was running low once again and you’d grown confident in handling yourself out here. Only now did you realize you’d made the same mistake as so many others who’d passed through your town. Like them, you were to pay for it with your life.

Your muscles burned as you tried to force them to pull you to the top of the chainlink fence. Below, rotters snapped at your heels like rabid dogs, while infected clamored for your attention. You shut out the lewd noises, the mindless groans, and continued your arduous climb, but then a new noise broke out above it all.

A low rumble thrummed through the air, capturing your attention as well as the fallen’s, but the origin was unclear. It took you a long time to place it, but then it hit you; that was the rough grumble of a motorcycle. If you were higher up, perhaps you could’ve spotted the culprit, but the buildings on both sides limited your view. Nonetheless, it gave you hope because the sound was _life_. 

Infected were too distracted by lust, the rotters were mindless and clumsy, while the fallen were mere shuffling, hungering corpses; none of them could handle a machine requiring such balance and skill. That could only mean you had a chance at survival if these people had it in their hearts to save you. Several seconds of internal debate ensued before you finally cupped your hands around your mouth to call for aid. There wasn’t much else that could make your situation worse, after all, so who cared about making noise when a tumble of around fifty fallen were already vying for a chance at making you into a mid-morning snack.

Some of the rotters and fallen were beginning to wander off toward the source of the sound, which prompted you to shout warnings in accompaniment to your pleas for help from the top of the fence. In the distance, you saw not one, but _three_ motorcycles zip along the main road between the looted skeletons of parked or crashed cars. Your heart nearly stopped when one of them raised a hand in your direction -your first thought was a gun, but it was only an acknowledging wave.

The trio split up immediately after, each one taking a different byway and moving out of your line of sight. Your jaw clamped shut, and you prayed to every god you knew as you did your best to fight back the infected attempting to climb up after you. The aluminium baseball bat in your hands connected with so many heads, your hands and arms were now numb to the elbows. Still, from all around, you could hear the grumbling purr of engines that signalled your saviors hadn’t given up on you in the least.

In fact, you saw one dart by on the road that ran in front of the alley. They had to make a broad turn around the mass of reanimates, but managed to take out several with a quick burst of gunfire.The ear-splitting _rata-tat-tat_ of an automatic mowed through enough to give them room to come back around a second time. You almost called out that there were too many, but then realized with a start after the third tantalizingly-close pass that the plan wasn’t to kill off the entire herd…

They were trying to redirect them! This amazing conclusion was dampened by the feeling of the flimsy fence being violently shaken. You frantically clung to the top as infected screeched hoarsely. Most of the rotters and fallen had moseyed away in the direction of the roaring motorists, but the infected remained in numbers too great to handle with only a single bat. Some of them still had enough sense to try to climb the fence, which was already creaking under the abuse of your weight and the pummeling they were giving it. Your swatting became feverish, though it was no use.

“Ey, li’l missy!” You looked up in time to see one of the bikes pass by yet again. Before you could reply, they were gone.

“ _Amorcita_ , try to-” The second rider got in few words between wild shots.

“-climb the fire escape, please.” The third calmly called out as he neatly put a single bullet between the eyes of one infected man who’d nearly made to the top with you.

You didn’t waste time in heeding the advice, despite the rickety fire escape above your head being almost as much a danger as the fence. Adrenaline pushed you beyond the muscle exhaustion, and you were able to swing yourself up to scramble atop the first level of the cast iron escape stairs. “Okay!” You panted heavily and clambered to the top of the building via the fire escape while watching the trio of motorists continue to harass, kill off, and lead away the infected mob.

The largest of the three gave you another wave as he passed by, only to disappear around the corner of the building yet again, but that was when you heard it. You whipped around as the puttering snarl caught your attention in time to see reality tear itself open to allow that same, crazy biker to skid onto the roof. The impossibility of this didn’t fully strike you until he’d already snatched you up, spun into a tight U-turn, and sped back through the glittering, scarlet-edged rip in reality.

The two of you re-appeared on asphalt three stories below in a smooth transition that warped your logical brain into knots. That wasn’t… nobody could _do_ that... except… well, that had to be magic, didn’t it? Magic meant monsters, and monsters meant no possibility of infection, but there wasn’t time to ponder that. “Hold on tight, missy.” Your biker fell into line behind the other two, and then pulled ahead as soon as they were all clear of the trouble.

You didn’t so much as glance back at the town that had been your home through the first year of the outbreak. It held nothing more for you now, although you’d dearly miss all of those wonderful books. Someday, if fate allowed it, you may return, but for now you were content to leave it, and the memories it held, behind.

Your new acquaintances did not stop for anything. Whatever mission they had been out on now somehow took a backseat. They rode for what felt like nearly half an hour across a sea of blacktop, eventually hitting the curving base of one of the many mountains _Amante_ was famous for. The curling highway was then abandoned in favor of a gravel back-road that rambled on through the forgiving shade cast by oak, sycamore, and pines.

The forest gradually opened up into more open land, and their pace began to slow. Hay bales were rolled up neatly in the field to your right, while to your left you could see what looked to be a modest-sized orchard. Beyond the hay field, too, sat a barn and two distant figures could clearly be seen doing some type of work as they moved in and out of the open doors. You blinked against the wind, not quite trusting your own eyes. Had you died back there? What kind of heaven was this?! 

You passed a windmill, another barn, and only then were you able to fully process that this place, this slice of peace incarnate, was _real_. Out here, it was hard to believe that such a thing as a fallen could exist at all, but that was nothing compared to the moment when your company pulled up amongst a veritable collection of campers and RVs set up on the front lawn of a quaint two-story farmhouse. You were silently picked up off the back of the bike and placed on the ground with a gun leveled calmly at your head. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but we cannot be too careful.” One of the riders informed you. He still had yet to remove his helmet or gear, just as the others had not, which was likely for safety reasons. “I will escort you to the restroom and you will strip so that we may be sure you have not been bitten. Afterward, we will put you up in the basement for three days. Don’t worry, you’ll have access to food, water, and a toilet while there. At the end of three days, if ya don’t show any signs of infection, we’ll bring ya up and you’ll be incorporated into the community.”

The second rider turned their head as if to look at the first, and then sighed heavily. “We really do apologize for this, _amorcita_ , but we have been burned too many times.” You nodded, but lowered your eyes to the floor. The second rider sympathetically patted your shoulder. “Welcome to The Second Circle, sweetheart. Call me Rookie.” He pulled the first rider over. “This asshole here is my twin brother Kookie.”

“You can call me… Bullet. Since we found yer stranded, pert li’l ass, we’re gonna have t’ look after ya for now.” Your rider growled, and jerked his head in direction of the twins. “So, you go on with those two, an’ I’ll fix up yer lodgin’. Don’t fuckin’ try nuthin’ either. Jus’ cuz yer a lady don’t mean we won’t blow that pretty head right off yer shoulders.”

It was smart of them to give you nicknames instead of their real ones, you had to admit. People truly were the worst sometimes, and you wouldn’t be surprised if, in times like these, such a small gesture as giving out a name would be abused. “Understood.” You lowered your head and obediently followed Kookie into the house.

It was strange and awkward for the both of you. He continuously muttered apologies as he closely inspected your bared body, but stopped to comment on the makeshift leather belt you’d sewn for yourself. “A chastity belt?”

“It’s...I figured it would be a good idea, just in case.” You blushed hard. Sexual contact was the only other way to become infected, and the majority of those who suffered were already beyond moral restraint despite not yet being fully turned. 

“An intelligent idea.” He murmured to himself, and then met your eye. “Did you make the rest of this-” He motioned to your boiled leather armor where it had been laid aside on the bathroom floor. “-yourself as well?”

“Yes, I did. I hunted deer in the woods outside of town, dressed them on the spot, and would take the useful bits back with me.” Making leather was an extraordinarily _fragrant_ process, and you could only safely do it within the library itself, so you remembered the task with quite a lot of distaste. Still, you’d have been dead many times over if not for the armor you’d taught yourself how to make.

“Do you think you could reproduce it?”

Ah, so _that_ is what he was getting at? “Of course, I have the curing procedure memorized. I could make as many as needed.” You frowned at him suspiciously. “Did you three save me just because of the armor? Because, as practical as it is, that’s kind of dickish.”

“It was a factor.” He admitted with no amount of shame. He then made a twirling motion with one finger to indicate you should turn around. “I do not see any bites, but that doesn’t tell us anything for sure. By now, R-... _Bullet_ should have your room ready. Please get dressed and follow me.” 

You were led through the house, unceremoniously locked in a hand-built wooden cell box with barely enough room to do more than lay down, and given a single chunk of bread and a cup of water for a meal. While depressing, none of this was cruel in comparison to the horrors you’d witnessed from afar. In fact, this was the royal treatment, and you’d lucked out. By the looks of this place, you could live well as long as you worked hard for them. 

You weren’t an idiot. No one these days was ever good just _to be good_ anymore. They’d want something out of this, and you were more than willing to trade your skills for a full belly and safety. Thankfully, you’d read the hell out of the survivalism genre, and memorized the information held in books on bushcraft, folk crafts, and related topics. Information was infinitely valuable in this new, scarred world…

And you had _a lot_ of information to provide.


	2. Plot Armor

The three days passed without event or fanfare, and you were granted council with the entire group. While democratic in nature, the three whose words appeared to be taken with the most weight were Bullet and his brother -introduced to you as Chief- and a third man who went by Rip. None of those around were quick to trust or easy to persuade of your benevolence, and so most continued to use their nicknames with you to the point where it was force of habit to use them even once you knew their true ones.

You were granted a room in the house, although it wasn’t exactly  _ your  _ room. It was Bullet’s, and the idea was that he would keep a close watch while you acclimated to life on the farm. After only one instance of awkward, pillow-barrier bed-sharing, he spent a whole night building a bunk bed. As it turned out, while the entire group were as great working with their hands as he was, they had only some moderate variation in their skill set. Most of them were mechanics, a few had been oil field workers, a couple were firemen at one time, one had been a locksmith, two were ex-military, and one used to be a delivery man.

None of them had any kind of farming experience, although they’d fared relatively well in spite of that. A brief tour of the farm set your mind’s gears to turning, and you’d devised many ways to keep yourself useful to this new group. If one wasn’t useful in this world, one was dead, and you weren’t entertaining plans to die anytime soon. The group still hadn’t figured out quite what to do with you yet, other than that they wanted your armor, and that indecision was buying you time for observation.

One thing you noticed was the distinctly odd lack of women. There was only one other woman; a lovely asexual lady who went by Harmony. There was also a single biker named Dove who had female physicality, although they were non-binary. You weren’t sure how this could be turned in your favor, but you filed it away nonetheless. 

Eventually, everyone managed to come together with their own ideas on how to incorporate you into the group. They all met inside the main house and sat down at the massive table together. You were placed securely between Chief and Bullet, and once everyone was settled down, the meeting began.

“We are willing to admit you into my community.” Chief scowled as Bullet elbowed him hard in the ribs. “DAMN IT ALL, SANS! Fine!  _ OUR _ community.” He ruefully rubbed his chest while glaring indignantly at his brother. “But-” He held up a phalange inches from your face. “-that is on the sole condition that you agree to immediately start work on the creation of armor sets for all of us,  _ including _ that chastity belt Officer Vargas informed us of.”

“I can do that.” You shrugged. “Is that all you guys want?”

“Well, we’ll have to keep you around to make repairs on it as well, so… yes?” Rip replied. 

“It seems to me that you all need more than just armor.” You glanced around the table. “You need a wall, foremost. Sure, there’s fences, but do you really think that’s going to stop the fallen if a herd comes through here? I can help you build one that’ll last, or buy us time if worst comes to worst and we have to skip out… and Mexico won’t even have to pay for it.” Your outdated political snark gained you a few quiet snickers. “You need a guard tower, too. I saw a ramshackle treehouse on the property that will do.”

“‘Scuse me, ma’am, but you don’t look like no mason or carpenter.” Dove interjected with a skeptical arch of their brow.

“I’m not, but I know how to do it. I can draw up the plans, and you can all provide the muscle -a trait I’m notably deficient in.” You curled your tiny bicep up with a rueful smile. “You know what I also know? I know you’re not making the most of your planting… and from the looks of that pantry, none of you know how to do any canning, either. From that, I’ve also concluded you have no clue how to make cream, butter, or cheese, although I do commend you on the large amount of jerky I saw down there.” 

You rubbed at your nose. “But I can tell you right now, one of my  _ first _ projects would be making soap.” Your comment made them all frown and begin discreetly sniffing themselves. 

“I sure hope ya can live up t’ all that talk, sugar.” Bullet narrowed his sockets at you for a moment, and then relaxed back in his seat. “Hope ya know this means ya won’t be ‘llowed t’ leave the farm for anythin’.”

“W-what?” 

He nodded curtly. “That’s right, li’l missy. If ya really do know how t’ do all that shit… possibly more, too, I’m thinkin’... then you ain’t got no reason t’ go galavantin’ off. We’re keepin’ ya nice ‘n cozy here at the Circle, sweetheart.”

“So I’m a prisoner.” You retorted flatly.

“Ah now, don’t go thinkin’ ‘bout it that way.” He and the others exchanged uncomfortable looks. “More like yer worth too much t’ risk. Yer welcome t’ go where ya want all over, but ya just can’t leave the farm.”

It wasn’t ideal, certainly, but he had a point. You weren’t exactly a fighter, anyway. “Any other rules I should be aware of?”

He held up his hands. “That’s it, no other strings.”

“Alright then, but I do want one thing.” You crossed your arms. “I’m gonna be providing you lot with more than enough to make up for my room and board. I think I deserve my own room or… or space… or whatever. I don’t care if it’s just a shack.”

Bullet snarled. “Hey, I built ya a bed-” 

“Yeah, in  _ your _ room. I’m sorry and I’m grateful, but I’m surprised I’m not deaf by now, as loud as you snore.” That was a bit of a fib. The snoring didn’t bother you at all, really, but it did give you an excuse for privacy.

Bullet grunted and scowled at you as Rookie burst out laughing. “She’s gotchya there, pal.” He gave his friend a good-natured slap on the back. “Alrighty,  _ amorcita _ , we’ll get right on that. ‘S a fair trade in my opinion. You want a tent, RV, or camper? I know where I can find ya any o’ those. Or we can build ya up somethin’ nice if yer willin’ t’ wait.”

“I’ll go with a camper.” You didn’t need all of the space of an RV, and the idea of a piddly little tent didn’t excite you. “The sooner I can get away from Mr. Lumberjack over here, the better.” Another round of chuckles erupted, and this time Bullet rolled his eye lights, but joined in. 

From there, things took a good turn. Rookie and his brother began planning a trip out to get you that camper, and Chief took it upon himself to shadow you around the farm. He made notes as you pointed out things that required improvement. You were also expected to get to work right away on those new sets of armor, as well as taking on an apprentice in the event of your death.

After some thought, you chose Rip. He was the least busy of the three head honchos, and he was the only one you hadn’t gotten to know yet. He was a quiet man, but you were a quiet woman, and the two of you worked well enough together. After two days of hunting, he brought back five deer to be used in the creation of the first set of armor in your new home.

“This one will be yours.” You told him as you took careful measurements to tailor it to him. “Is there anything you’d like on it?” You showed him a series of impression blocks you’d carved while he was out hunting, any of which could be used to mold a design into the softened leather. 

He picked up a block, and then eyed all of the supplies you’d laid out. “This is a lot for a single set.” 

“Well, I’m kind of getting fancier with your sets because I wanted to have a little fun.” You grinned at him. “ _ Mine _ doesn’t have any designs, but I always wished to try putting them on.” You gestured at everything that was laid out. “I could put studs in, too, if I could get my hands on stuff from a jewelry, craft, or hardware store. Right now, I can put a design on it with the impression blocks, and dye it with dogwood bark, walnut hulls, or beets… so you’ve got a choice of blue, black, or red for now. This process will take a few days, so I have time to find more dyes if you want something different.

“Nah...nah, black’s okay.” He scratched the back of his head incredulously. “Damn, where’d you learn all this shit?”

“A book is a wonderful thing, sir.” You told him playfully as you stepped up to the first deer he’d hung from the dressing horse Chief had so thoughtfully set up for you. Skinning the animal was always the most difficult part because it required the most muscle, and you puffed for several moments as you did your best to yank the hide down. You paused half-way, blinked, and then motioned him over. “What the heck am I doing? Here, you do it, muscles. You’re the one who’s supposed to be learning here.” 

After the hide was removed, you pinned it from the top of the dressing horse and showed him how to carefully flesh the underside free of any remaining fat or meat. Once that was done, you dragged it over to a giant, blue tub full of water to allow it to soak. 

“What now?” 

“Now, we wait for a few days.”

“That long? Why?”

“It loosens up the hair.” You helped him heave the body back up on the dressing post to begin butchering it. “Wouldn’t be as much of an issue if we used human instead.” He spun around, eyes wide and mouth agape in horror. You smirked. “What? It was a  _ joke _ ...sheesh…”

After a moment of confusion, he shook his head. “I honestly dunno what t’ say to that, other than ya kinda scare me… butchya also make me a bit horny.”

Bullet, who was passing by on his way up from the barn with his toolbox in hand, overheard and started cackling. “Bro-” He clapped Rip on the shoulder and winked. “-that’s jus’ how ya know the pussy’s good.”

“Um… thank you?” You raised an eyebrow at them both. “Oh, and I hope you guys don’t mind having lots of venison over the next few weeks.” You gestured toward the pile of as-yet un-dressed deer. “We’ll have venison sausage, venison bologna, venison burgers, venison steak, and more of that darn jerky you guys seem to love.”

“Sounds good t’ me.” Bullet put his tools down. “Not gonna complain long as we got food. Need help gettin’ it all situated?”

“Sure!” You knelt down right as Rip finished clearing out the guts to sift through what could be used out of the pile. “We’ll finish this one up, you can haul it into the kitchen for Zeus to start working on dinner, and then by the time you’re back, we’ll have the next one done and so on until we-...why are you two staring?” You’d just pulled out the bladder to be set aside along with the other useful offal, when you happened to glance up and see both their faces transform into disgust. “Guys, what did you think sausage was made out of?”

“Uh…”

“What about hot dogs?” You held up a length of intestine, which made him flinch in the act and nearly slice through a bit of sinew. “Rip, try not to mess up the tendons, those make great cordage!”

“See what I mean?!” Rip took a couple steps back. “I’m more ‘n a li’l scared I might wake up with her hands elbow-deep in mah belly whisperin’ ‘ _ It’s okay, Rip, I’m just lookin’ for cordage. _ ’” He pointed at you. “Lady, I ain’t  _ never _ gonna piss ya off, cross mah heart an’ hope like hell I won’t get murdered.”

You glanced down at your bloody, gore-coated hands. “There’s no need to be dramatic, it’s just a bunch of deer guts. We’re not a situation where we can afford to waste. We just need to rinse it all out, and remember to save the lungs and heart for soup stock.”

“Rip, you sure ya don’t want me t’ handle this ‘apprentice’ business?” Bullet chuckled as his friend went pale. 

“Man, you can have it.” Rip wiped off his hands and backed up, his blue eyes full of alarm. “‘Save the lungs an’ heart’, she says!” He threw his hands in the air as he walked off. “I need a goddamned drink, Jesus Christ almighty...”

“Don’t mind ‘im. He’s always had a bit o’ a weak stomach.” Bullet took up the knife Rip had discarded and went to work. “Kinda wondered why ya picked ‘im in the first place.”

“Well, I had no way of knowing he was sensitive to this kind of stuff, did I?” You replied as you dug out the rest of the edible organs, then dropped the others into a bucket. “We’ll save the rest of this as predator bait. Come winter, we’ll be happy for some thick bear pelts.”

“Good idea, sweetheart.” He carved up the hams of the deer, prying the knife between the joints and then cracking the gristle to get the leg loose with the precision that came of practice. 

“Save the hooves, we can make glue out of those.” You automatically replied, while thoroughly washing the edibles of blood in a metal milk pail. “And thank you.” You watched him out of the corner of your eye, mildly impressed with the quick way he was handling the deer. He was already hanging the second one. “You’ve got a knack for butchering. Was that something you did before the world went to heck?”

He scoffed as he expertly skinned the body. “ _ Tch _ , nah, I was a fuckin’ gigolo.”

You stopped in the middle of what you were doing. “You were a-”

He turned around to face you, smirking shamelessly. “Gentleman of the night… five-dollar footlong… whatever ya wanna call it, but yeah… I did  _ the sex _ for money. I was damn good at it, too. Made more at it than the garage I worked in, that’s for fuckin’ sure. Problem?” 

He handed over the hide for you to guide him through the fleshing technique, which he picked up quickly. “N-no…” You blushed hard, and then grabbed for the innards that splattered his red-laced boots with viscera as soon as he slit open its stomach. “It...erm… takes a lot of  _ guts _ to take part in that profession.”

He snickered at the pun. “Not really. Jus’ had t’ do what I had t’ do, y’know? Sorta like now, I guess, but hey it ain’t all bad an’ I got a feelin’ havin’ you around is gonna make things run a li’l smoother, too. What did you do for a livin’ ‘fore shit went down?”

“I was a librarian.” He did a double-take, and you smiled. “How did you all think I know this stuff?”

“Well, I was kinda thinkin’ ya might be some kinda ex-Navy SEAL or somethin’...” He reached over and poked your noodle-arms with a broad grin. “Ya know… what with these muscles o’ steel ya got here, heh.”

“Pfft,  _ right _ .” You rolled your eyes, and returned to the task at hand. “So, one vote Navy SEAL and one vote serial killer… nice.”

“Serial killer was mah second guess.” He put the heel of his boot on the meat of one leg, grabbed the hoof, and jerked it up to neatly snap the bone. The hoof he tossed in a pile with the others he’d removed, and the ham went on the metal table with the rest. “Hey… uh… by the way, ‘m sorry.”

“What? Why? What for?”

“The...fuckin’ hell… the snorin’. Usually, I don’t sleep in mah room all that much. I typically work ‘til I nod off in the garage, but Chief fuckin’ made me sleep in there since none o’ us really know ya well yet.”

“Oh! Oh, I was just joking about that.” Now you felt awful over the comment. “It didn’t actually bother me that much. I just wanted my own space, and I figured you’d want yours back, too.”

“Didn’t mind havin’ ya there.” He replied gruffly as he emptied yet another line of entrails onto the ground. “Kinda nice t’ have a reason t’ use the bed… more comfortable than an engine block at any rate.”

“I should hope so!” You beamed up at him from the ground. “Well, would it be preferable if we just continued to share the room, then? It would save Rookie the trip.”

“If ya wanna, sure.” He made quick work of the final deer, wiped his bloodied hands off, and moved on to packing the meat into the canvas bags you’d brought along for that specific purpose. “The bed I made ya ain’t bad, is it? Never made one b’fore, so…” He rolled his shoulders awkwardly, and focused much too hard on shoving each cut into the bags.

“No, it’s nice. Did you make the straw mattress, too?”

“Can’t take credit for anythin’ but the frame. Harmony made it, the pillow, an’ the quilt. She’s good with stuff like that.”

“Ah, okay. I’ll have to thank her next time I see her, then. I’ll probably ask her if she would mind being the one to do any sewing for me.” He gave you a questioning look. “I know how to do it, sure, but I’m not  _ good _ or fast at it. I always end up pricking my fingers bloody.” You wrapped up all of the cleaned organ meat in its own bag, shoved the last of the hides into the tub to soak, and cleaned off your skinning knife. “Thanks for doing the frame. How did you attach it to your bed?”

“Just a few bolts t’ hold the supports t’ the sides -sturdy, but nuthin’ fancy.”  A flash of pride in his sockets belied his humble words. 

The two of you lugged the meat up to the house… well,  _ you _ lugged while he seemed to be nearly unburdened by the weight. Actually, you were carrying the spoils from a single deer, while he carried the remaining four. “Are all monsters as strong as you?”

“Huh?” He was confused by the question at first, and then shrugged. “Yeah, a lot of us are. Magically speakin', though, mah bro an' I are a cut above the rest... a li'l different.”

“Different how?”

“Alphas.” The way he said it made it sound as if you were supposed to know what it meant, instead you only stared blankly back at him. “Guess that’s somethin’ they didn’t get ‘round t’ puttin’ in books ‘fore the outbreak.” Upon reaching the house, he held the front door open for you.  “Y’know what? How ‘bout we leave that ‘till after dinner, huh? Don’t lemme forget.”

You dropped the heavy bags onto the kitchen table with a tired, relieved sigh. “I won’t.” You promised him with an exhausted smile. “I never miss an opportunity to learn something new.”


	3. Sleep Tight

And learn you did. It made for a fascinating conversation for Bullet to explain in depth and detail the system that the monsters had used before the world went to hell in a bloody handbasket. Apparently, it was something they called the ‘A/B/K-Multi Designation System’. It appeared to be similar to both how they quantified stats and physical attributes, but also seemed to take into account one’s sexual orientation. Overall, it seemed to be quite a logical way for a monster to define themselves.

“So, you’re an AU… an Alpha Upsilon… which means you can switch genitalia and secondary sex characteristics, right?” He nodded in response to your question. “I suppose I could see where that could come in handy, given your previous profession.”

He grinned. “Sure did, missy.” He peered at you hard for a moment, and then chuckled as the warm, slightly staticky, feeling of being CHECKed washed over you.    
  
“What?”

He smirked. “Nuthin’... it’s jus’... I was right.” He snickered again. “Never bothered t’ CHECK ya ‘til now, but kinda figured you was a double-b.” His expression softened a little. “Who’dah thunk a double-b would be the sole survivor outta a whole town? Goddamned resourceful is what you are.” He raised his glass of tepid whiskey in your honor before taking a sip. “Back in the day, y’know… when I was still livin’ with all the others underground… a double-b survivin’ that kinda shit was ‘bout as common as seeing a Walgreens without a CVS right next door.”

“Is a ‘double-b’ bad?” You covered your chest, although you knew hiding your soul from a monster was next impossible, it still made you feel somewhat better.

“Nah, not in the sense that yer meanin’.” He swirled his drink thoughtfully. “It jus’ means yer… not as sturdy as me or Chief, an’ believe me when I say I ain’t the most healthy o’ monsters.”

“Not healthy?” You scrutinized him from across the table. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with him. His bones were rather thick, of course, but you’d noticed both he and his brother had bones about as hard as concrete and thicker than was normal for a human skeleton, so that wasn’t a proper indicator. 

“I got a tiny problem with HP.” He elaborated. His face flushed for a moment and he averted his eyes to the floor. He looked rather ashamed to admit it. “Just… can’t seem t’ find much hope in the world, y’know? An’ considerin’ us monsters were meant t’ have a helluva lotta hope… that’s a problem.”

“So, does that mean you could... you could maybe die?” You asked in a horrified voice. You knew a bit about monsters. Actually, there had been several studies and reports on their race written by monsters to explain themselves further to the humans. It had all been necessary during the process of immigrating the tattered and battered remains of an entire race to the surface. You’d had the fascinating pleasure of reading through a few of these published volumes in the past.

He grunted as he stabbed a piece of steamed broccoli and his blush deeped. “I ain’t  _ that _ delicate.” He snapped back. “‘M better off than you. Least it’s fuckin harder t’ damage bones than bare flesh.  _ Yer _ the delicate one.”

You raised an eyebrow and tapped the shell of your armor with the nail of your forefinger; it made a solid sound. “I beg to differ. I’d like to think I wield the sword of the written word and heft the shield of wisdom as needed.You…  _ you _ have a motorcycle.”

He scoffed. “I got a lot more than that.” He growled back at you as he shoved a mouthful of food into his mouth, gulping it down as if it were his last meal. “Got a weapon o’ my own, if ya were wantin’ t’ see it.” He smirked lewdly, and it was now your turn to blush hard.

“I...I’m good… but thanks.” You stammered as you rose to wash your plate.

“You sure?” He twisted in his chair, all air of innuendo now dissipated. “Could give ya some lessons. It’s stupid not t’ know how t’ handle a gun these days.”

“I know how to use a gun. I can also pull one apart, clean it, and put it back together. Probably mod it, too, if you give me the right tools and parts.” You scrubbed the plate in the sink full of cold, standing, soapy-gray water, rinsed it in the secondary section half-full of chilly, clear water, and then rested it in the drying rack. “But a gun isn’t a good idea. They damage the hearing, draw more attention, and it’s easy to miss. Sure, I have to get up close and personal with my bat, but my armor and chastity belt provide more than enough protection when that happens. A gun should always be a last resort.”

“Lucky for me I ain’t got no eardrums.” He chuckled and leaned his head on his fist as he watched you return to your seat. “An’ all o’ what ya said is true, yeah, but I’m more of a sniper kinda guy. Y’know… sit back, enjoy a beer, maybe snooze with one socket open ‘til it’s time t’ take the shot. I’m usually far away from the action, anyhow.”

“If you’re not one to head out into the fray, then why were you with Rookie and Kookie?”

He smirked. “We’re the best on the bikes. Usually, we scout out areas a little… see if there’s any salvage, scrap, or goods t’ be found… and keep an eye out for hordes o’ fallen headin’ toward the Second Circle. After we find what we’re lookin’ for, we radio it in over Starband, an’ then Zeus, Rip, an’ Chief go out in Rambo-”

“I’m assuming ‘Rambo’ is the camouflage-painted van with the used condoms duct-taped all over it?” Fresh cum was a good way to keep away the infected, rotters, and fallen alike, which wasn’t something  _ you’d _ learned firsthand. You were informed by Rookie of the many ways the tiny band of misfits at the Circle had figured out in order to survive and thrive. You… weren’t sure you wanted to know how they’d found out that little nugget of info, though.

Bullet grinned broadly. “That’d be the one.” He nodded. “So, yeah, then they all go out and get as much as they can t’ bring back.”

“That reminds me… since I’m part of the group now, do I get a Starband handle and a radio of my own?” It would be handy to have. The farm was only small by farm standards, but it was still large enough for you not to be familiar with every corner of it yet. It would be easy to get lost.

He rubbed his mandible as he considered it for a few seconds. “It’d be good t’ know where yer at all the time, just in case we need ya, but I don’t think Chief was plannin’ on givin’ ya one so soon-”

  
“You guys  _ still _ don’t trust me?” You let out an irritated huff. “I  _ like _ it here. I  _ want _ to help you guys.”

Bullet leaned forward. “I geddit, butchya gotta see this from our point o’ view, starshine. We been screwed over b’fore when we trusted people too soon.” A dark look clouded his boney features for a moment, and then he shook his head. “I’ll ask for ya, but no promises. I don’t do promises.”

“Thanks… Red.” You smiled at him when his eye lights flicked back up in surprise. “Is it okay to call you that now? Or do you want me to stick with Bullet?” 

There was that blush again. It was surprisingly adorable; he was such a rough, crude, cocky son of a gun most of the time that it was a refreshing change of pace. He brutally stabbed the last bite of meat and chewed silently for a while. He hastily got up to abandon his plate in the soapy water. “Either one’ll do.” He grumbled under his breath. “Not like it fuckin’ matters. Neither one’s mah real name anyhow.”

“Red isn’t your real name?” You inquired.

“Real name’s Sans.” He gave the plate a few half-hearted wipes with the dishcloth before skipping the rinse water altogether and just plopping it in the rack. “Sans Osseous… but like I said-” He rubbed his wet hands on his pants. “-it don’t matter.”

“Huh… well, out of all three, I definitely think Bullet fits you best.” You grinned at him, and then yawned. “Darn, I’m worn out. I’m gonna go to bed a little early, what about you?” He merely nodded and let you walk out the dining room ahead of him. 

He grinned wide enough to show all four of his golden fangs. “Sounds like a plan, li’l missy.” He purred back at you.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you go getting any ideas, sir.” You told him teasingly. “Just because you’re handsome as heck, doesn’t mean I’m  _ inviting _ you or anything.”

Your remark gave you the pleasure of making his grin twist downward a little in.. was that  _ disappointment _ ? But the hint of whatever he was thinking was gone in an instant and that blush returned. “Handsome?” He rolled his eye lights in disbelief. “Pfft, yeah…  _ sure _ .”

He then stepped around you to get a headstart and you heard a familiar static purr as an electric buzz ran through the air. You peeked around his broad frame to find that he’d opened a warp straight to his room rather than climbing the stairs. He stepped through it and you half expected it to close behind him, but then he shot a look over his shoulder when he noticed you weren’t following. “Ey, get a move on.” He jerked his head in the direction of the bunk bed.

The moment you were inside with him, he let the warp collapse and began to change. He pulled off his patrolman sunglasses by unclipping the delicate gold chain holding them to his skull to place them on the nightstand. You looked away about the time he’d shucked off those gaudy, scarlet faux fur and leather wristbands he always wore. The clink of the heavy, gold finger chains and spikes of the bands hitting the wood was a cue for you to blurt out a question. “Why do you wear those things?”

There was a pause in the shuffling of clothing, and you heard a low chuckle. “Man, ya really are naive, ain’tchya?” He sounded incredibly amused, which brought fire to your face.

“Oh hush and answer the question, please.” You crossed your arms huffily.

“It’s a street signal.” The ruffling of clothes continued now, unhindered. “Sorta like the way gangs used t’ wear certain colors or give hand signs.” You heard something soft hit the floor and a drawer open. “Prostitutes would wear black lace opera gloves under gold slave bracelets. Gigolos wear leather wristbands with gold chains that loop ‘round their middle fingers… I just gave mine a li’l extra decoration t’ make Chief think I was bein’ flashy for no good reason. Wouldn’t want ‘im ridin’ mah ass ‘bout the dangers o’ the profession, if ya know what I mean. Fucker’s got a talent for naggin’, heh.”

“So it’s a subtle way of saying you’re DTF?” You asked.

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “DTFFM, sweetheart; down to fuck for money. I don’t do freebies.” The only time you heard the  _ tink _ of a hanger seemed to be for his vest, as you saw a flash of scarlet fur out of the corner of your eye. “Really had it made, y’know, ‘fore all this Fallen shit went down. Had all the sex a monster could want, was makin’ bank at it, too, an’ I had mah own place t’ top it all off… that sure was the life.” 

You couldn’t really say much to that, except maybe ask a few more burning questions. “Why didn’t you leave the autoshop, then?”

The bed creaked and more clothing rustled; he was likely putting on something to sleep in by now. “Stayed ‘cuz I love anythin’ with wheels an’ a motor, that’s why.” He replied simply. “ _ And _ ‘cuz I had t’ keep up the premise of a normal payin’ gig for Chief’s sake.”

“You can turn around now, sweetness.” You spun around to see him reclining carelessly on his bed with one arm tucked behind his head. He was… oh, great... this  cocky asshole had decided to strip down to sleep only in his boxers. 

You averted your eyes quickly with an embarrassed choking sound and grabbed the first rung of the bunkbed to haul yourself up to the top before stripping down to just your undershirt and panties. This was so awkward… you’d never had to actually engage Bullet in any type of conversation before bed because the two of you were rarely energetic enough to do anything more than curl up under the covers after each day’s end.    
  
You tossed your clothes and armor to the floor in a random corner and snuggled under the thick quilt. “Hey… ‘ey, dollface.” The bed creaked as Bullet shifted, possibly sitting up. “I told ya a good bit ‘bout me. I feel like ‘s only fair ya answer a few o’  _ my _ questions.”   
  
“Okay, ask away.” Why not? You had no secrets to keep. 

“You a virgin?”

You choked on air and you spluttered as you tried to regain your mental bearings. Who asks a question like that out of the freaking blue?! “I don’t see why that’s any of your business!”   
  
“Heh, figured ya were.” He snickered. “But hey, good on ya for holdin’ out. Coulda ended up like one o’ the Fallen if ya decided t’ ditch the purity life only a li’l while ago.” You felt him move yet again, and then you heard the creak of the bunk rungs creaking. Before you knew it, he was grinning at you from the end of your bed. “I’m guessin’ ya was a good li’l church mouse, eh? Y’know… t’ go keepin those pretty legs crossed.”   
  
“I’m atheist, actually.” You clutched the blanket to your chest as you sat up to better face him. “I just… I tried the whole dating thing, but never found anyone who really interested me enough to invest  _ that way _ . I respect people who can do the one night stand or hook-up thing, but I… can’t.” You shrugged self-consciously and fiddled with a corner of your blanket. “Weird, I know.”

“Yeah, fuckin’ weird.” But he made it sound as if it were a compliment. The red orbs in his sockets flashed brighter for a second. “Ya at least had some kinda relationship, right?” He looked intrigued even more when you shook your head. “Not even a li’l one?” He asked, surprised. “A crush, maybe?”

You thought back, for just a second, to your employer and your heart gave a painful little squeeze. “I guess… I cared a lot for a guy who was a good bit older than me, but I’m pretty sure he’s dead by now… does that count?”

“Did ya wanna fuck ‘im?” He was frowning now… more like scowling, honestly.

“Uh…” You hadn’t thought about it that way at all. “I don’t think so? It was more of an emotional connection, I think. I looked up to him, admired him a lot, and he taught me so many things that kept me alive this long. I loved him in a different way… completely apart from anything sexual.”

His expression relaxed a little and he leaned forward over his crossed arms. “Then it don’t count, sugar.”

“Oh.” 

“Mind if I sit up ‘ere fer awhile? Li’l easier t’ talk if we’re face t’ face.”    
  
You tucked your legs up and nodded, but tried to ignore the fact that he was mostly naked. You kept your eyes firmly locked on his face and the eerie, scarlet glow of his eye lights in the dim room. “Was bein’ a librarian whatchya dreamed ‘bout doin’ for the rest o’ yer life?”

You blinked at the sudden turn in conversation. He had jumped topics so rapidly, it took you a moment to come up with an answer to his question. “What? Oh, um… no…” You played with the loose curls of your hair. “This is gonna sound stupid, but I… I wanted to be a translator. I’ve got a small knack for languages, so I figured I’d save up from the librarian job to go to community college and get a degree in Spanish or something and then learn a few other languages casually. It’s kind of an excuse to travel around. I planned on doing written translation work, maybe some tourist guide stuff… it pays pretty well, despite being free-lance, so I’d be comfortable. Plus, there’s a lot of perks to it.”

“An’ then the world ended. Huh, that sucks, darlin’. Didn’t even get t’  _ start _ on the dream.” He hauled himself up to the end of the bed and settled down only a few centimeters from your feet. “Where’d ya wanna go?”

“Africa, mainly… or South America or India. Mostly places that are hot year-round or nearly so. I  _ hate  _ the cold.” You despised snow, winter, and any kind of chilly weather in general. You had what your mother used to call ‘thin skin’ and felt the cold fairly easily. It always took a hot soak in the tub before the cold seeped out of your bones. “I once knew a man who went to India and stayed a few months near a monastery to learn how to better wrangle his anger issues and he always described it as a beautiful, if crowded, place to visit, too.” You leaned forward a little. “What about you? Did you have any dreams?”

He went rigid and scowled down at the quilt. “Nope.” He said, much too curtly to be true.

“Pretty sure you’re lying.”   
  
“Pretty sure you should shut yer trap.” He snapped back, which made you reflexively flinch. He growled a little, then groaned. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean t’ fly off the handle atchya.”

“It’s fine.” You shrugged, and, at the back of your mind, registered that the quilt had slipped down a little. “Did it involve cars? Being a carefree drifter with nothing but the road under your wheels and the wind ripping at your leathers?”

He was silent for a couple heartbeats, but then shook his head. “Wanted a family.” He confessed sheepishly.

“What, like a wife and kids?”

He scowled at that. “Maybe… I dunno. Never thought ‘bout the whole marryin’ bit. Seems like a waste o’ money an’ time, an’ it saves a person the muddle of a divorce.”

“Well, not all marriages end in divorce.”

He scoffed. “All marriages end in death or divorce.” He retorted bitterly.

“That’s a rather dark way of seeing things, but I get the point. Still, there’s beauty of people in love growing old together.”

“Mostly I wanted t’ have like… I dunno… aunts… uncles… cousins. Hell, maybe parents or grandparents.”

You thought on that for a few ticks. “Were you an orphan?”   
  
His expression grew blacker and more foreboding as he bared his teeth in a snarl. “ _ I wish _ .” He didn’t elaborate on that, and you had no desire to inquire. Clearly it was a sore spot for him.   
  
“I had family, you know… before everything happened.” You told him with a small sigh. “Not a big one; just me, mom, dad, and my granddad. They’re gone now, but honestly? It’s kind of relieving not having a family. It’s freeing, in a way. I wasn’t close with them at all. It felt like we were kind of going through the motions, not as if we actually loved each other.” You couldn’t really understand the desire to have one. For a long time growing up, it was a foreign concept to you that familial love was supposed to be more than an obligation or a sense of duty simply due to biological connection and social expectation. That it was supposed to be  _ actual love _ .   
  
He looked at you as if you’d just babbled out demonic gibberish and then shrugged it off.“Guess ya didn’t have the best home life, either. Welp, means we’re in the same damn boat. Don’t fuckin’ rock it, ‘kay? The ocean we’re sailin’ is toxic.”   
  
You snickered at that. “You’re kind of funny, you know that?”   
  
“I’m not fuckin’ funny. I’m goddamned  _ hilarious, _ an’ don’tchya forget it.” He grinned and then shook his head. “I traded in nice for funny a long damn time ago.”   
  
“Really? Because I think you’re pretty nice.” You smiled when he shot you a half-hearted glare. “I’m serious! You and the guys are great. Maybe you’re all a little rough around the edges, but that’s to be expected. I’m grateful to be here. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you and your friends.”   
  
He shrugged and then backed himself toward the end of the bed. “ _ Tch _ , it’s fine. Nuthin’ ya need t’ like… bow an’ fall all over yerself about. Anyways, I’m fuckin’ tired. Get some sleep, t’morra’s gonna be another long-ass day.” With that he clambered back down the rungs and fell into his own bed.   
  
You wiggled deeper under the quilt to get comfortable. “Goodnight, Bullet.”   
  
There was a pause in the creaking below, and then you heard a quiet reply. “...G’night, princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys catch the The Walking Dead reference in this one? If not, it was the line 'I traded in nice for funny a long time ago.' It's one of Negan's lines from the comics. <3 XD
> 
> Oh! And if you guys are interested... I have a link to the PG-13 roleplay server that sorta served to inspire me to write this story. I originally built my characters of Bullet and Chief there, and I was a creator a few of the elements (such as Starband Radio which is referenced here)on there as well since I'm a mod and part of the creation team, otherwise it's a completely different premise and not set in a lustverse or anything like this story is, but it's still loads of fun! So, if you want, come on down and have a bit of fun with us! This will be a permanent link! -> https://discord.gg/SkbqhyK
> 
> I hope I see some of you all there! <3


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